


Sanctum

by LeaveMeInPeace



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Autopsies, Cloak of Levitation (Marvel), Eventual Smut, F/M, Magical Realism, Manhattan, Medical Procedures, Meditation, New York City, Sanctum Sanctorum
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-08-30 04:06:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8517877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeaveMeInPeace/pseuds/LeaveMeInPeace
Summary: Inspired by works from MizJoely, WillSherJohnKhan and that damn gorgeous movie - I couldn't get a Strange/Hooper pairing out of my head.  (Nor fantasies about a night with Stephen Strange - wink wink).Totally Canon-divergent for both Marvel and Sherlock, I took some plot elements from both and turned them into a completely unbelievable, magical pile of PWP for your enjoyment.  What can I say.  It's one of many realities.





	1. Halcyon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MizJoely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/gifts), [WillSherJohnKhan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillSherJohnKhan/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Night Nurse](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6360304) by [WillSherJohnKhan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillSherJohnKhan/pseuds/WillSherJohnKhan). 
  * Inspired by [Wrapped In A Cloak Of Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8042983) by [MizJoely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely). 



Ever since Christine Palmer was murdered, no one at Metro-General had stopped talking about Stephen Strange.

"I still think he did it - she dies under mysterious circumstances and he just... disappears? Like some kind of magician?" Dr. West complained, throwing his hands up in the air as he sat across from Dr. Hooper at the cafeteria.

Molly shrugged. She never really knew him - just the stories of his arrogance ...and brilliance. She'd read a lot of his medical journal material, and with some of it detailing cutting-edge techniques - this man could have won a Nobel Peace Prize had he continued his research.

He'd been forced to stop his surgery practice after being involved in a horror auto accident. He never regained the full use of his hands, but he still continued to consult and write papers after retiring to Long Island.

Yet after Christine's death - he just vanished. His Brookville mansion for sale, his regular contributions to Neurology Journal ceased and his medical cohorts around the world left stunned; suddenly no one knew where to find him.

"He was always such an asshole," West continued. "Never stopped blaming me for what happened to him. He refuses to believe how close he was to amputation of the right one. I did my very best for him."

"I know, Nick. I read his charts. It was an impossible surgery. A shame such a brilliant surgeon was cut short in his prime..."

"Oh.... no no no. You don't get to do that. Pity him. He'd have you for breakfast just for insinuating it. And brilliant? Yes, he had some very high profile cases - but don't think for one second that he didn't choose them carefully. Only the ones he could save... and look good doing it..."

"I don't really see it that way..." Molly shook her head. "He tried to help people who..."

"Molly. I know it's very polite and proper and British of you to not speak ill of someone you've never met... but believe me. There is no one more important to Stephen Strange than Stephen Strange."

Americans were so crass.

"I really must be going, Nick. I have one more post-mortem to finish by the end of the day."

"You've got too soft a heart, Molly Hooper," West called after her as she returned her tray to the rack.

 

* * * * *

 

Working in New York for 6 months on an assignment by the British Government to help the United States wasn’t really in Molly’s future plans, but here she was. Manhattan had been crumbling into a 1980s version of itself after the civil unrest and great real estate crash of 2017 – it was still currently on the good side of apocalyptic but as the world knew, it could turn at any time. Many of the best doctors and specialists had moved away to practice in less stressful locales – it simply wasn’t lucrative enough for them to continue in a place as unsettled as New York City. Several foreign governments had offered the services of their medical and engineering professionals on a short-term basis to assist the city – trying to bring it back to the greatness it once held on the world stage.

Metro-General wasn't the most prestigious hospital - nowhere near St. Barts - but it was definitely an eye-opening experience into some of the American post-mortem techniques that she'd never seen while at home. Molly dealt mainly with GSWs and other traumas - people either trying to kill or being killed. She leaned over the cold metal table, regarding her subject. About her age, male, British, dark haired and good looking. Cause of death was a single gunshot wound to the head on the roof of the crumbling Woolworth Building. Like so many of the suicides before him, the unfortunate gent was apparently heavily involved in the markets.

"It was him. He killed Christine," came a deep voice from the corner of the room. Molly spun around on her heel, her clipboard nearly flying against the wall with the momentum.

"What.... who are you? What are you doing here?!"

"Jim Moriarty is his name. I tried to tell them..."

Molly looked at the man in the corner of the room. His dress was otherworldly. He wore a blue tunic with a wide brown belt, tall boots with leather wrappings and a red cloak that seemed to hang in the air behind him. His hair was dark and swept back at his temples, a grey streak on each side above his ears. He wore a neatly trimmed goatee and his face.... he was quite a striking man. Cheekbones as far as the eye could see, and his eyes... they were stunning - an enigmatic meld of green and blue. He seemed to be looking past her and at her at the same time.

"I'm sorry. I should introduce myself. I'm Doctor Stephen Strange."

He reached for her hand, holding out five long scarred fingers in her direction.

"Hi... I'm..." she stuttered, extending her hand and allowing him to close his fingers around hers. "I'm Molly Hooper."

She shuddered slightly - there was something about his touch that was transcendental.

"Yes. Molly Hooper - the pathologist from London. I've heard a lot of you," Stephen responded, removing his hand from hers and whirling around to face the body on the autopsy table, his cloak following dramatically.

"I'm not sure you should be..."

"Oh, hush now. I'm very familiar with this room. Not with any of _my_ patients of course, but I've been down here many a time to give my expert opinion..."

It seemed that he was exactly as arrogant as she'd been warned.

“So this man…” Molly said, stepping cautiously toward him, both hands now clutching her clipboard. “He killed Christine? If you knew, why couldn’t you…”

"Cause of death is obvious," Strange ignored her, snapping on a pair of latex gloves from the blue and white box at the end of the table.

"You can't... Doctor Strange I don't think it's proper..."

"Stephen. Please..." he offered, giving her a warm and flirtatious smile. "I can, and I will. Don't worry. No one else can see me. By all accounts you're down here talking to yourself..."

Molly stood there, dumbfounded.

"Don't believe me?" he chided as he removed one of the gloves and snapped his fingers.

Suddenly Molly was alone with Mr. Moriarty, no one else in the room.

"I... I don't understand... you were just... here..." Molly's voice quivered as she turned this way and that, searching for Strange.

She jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Relax, Molly," his deep voice boomed in her ear as she felt his breath against her cheek. He was definitely real. "You need to suspend your sensibilities for just a moment and allow me to get a few answers here..."

"You?" Molly responded indignantly, "I'm down in a morgue with a disappearing man and you want answers?"

He leaned in further, his lips almost touching her ear. "Please, Molly. I assure you I won't hurt you. I come in peace..."

His hand grasped a wayward piece of hair that had fallen on her cheek, tucking it gently behind her ear. Strange definitely had the long, gentle fingers of a surgeon.

"Sun, Moon, Earth, Infinity. All that is in infinity, I am Thee."

His words made her shiver. With what, she wasn't exactly sure.

Molly's grip on her clipboard loosened and an overwhelming sense of calm enveloped her. She'd taken a yoga class once that taught her to concentrate on her breath - this felt a bit like that but it was as though Stephen had slowed her breath for her - like he had somehow placed his own halcyon thoughts deep inside her mind.  
  
Removing his hand from her ear, he snapped the glove back on his hand, breaking her reverie.

"If you'll allow me..."

"OK... if there's anything you need, Stephen... I'll be right here..."

"Thank you," he smiled at her as he leaned over the body.

Molly was transfixed. He began to examine the gunshot wound with the delicacy of a surgeon, his hand gently stroking back the matted, bloody hair from the man's forehead.

"Could you be so kind as to pass me a Number 24 sharp and a six and three quarter Cushing?"

She quickly put together the scalpel and forceps in an empty kidney tray and handed it to him, and then she couldn't move. What had he done to her? One moment he was waltzing into the morgue like he owned it, and the next he'd convinced her he could make himself disappear, and then he turned her into mumbling mess, catering to his every need.

Molly watched intently as Strange delicately opened the stitches on Moriarty's scalp, his brooding eyes trained on his work and his brow knit in concentration. He poked around in the dead man's skull for a while before breaking into a large smile.

"This," he said, plopping a long silver bullet into the empty kidney tray with a metallic clink, "is what killed him. Not from the gun found at the scene at all. Wasn't a suicide. Just make sure to keep that extra bullet out of your report."

Molly's mouth dropped.

"Are you hungry? Want to grab some dinner?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm by no means a Marvel expert - any glaringly obvious mistakes are my own and I apologise in advance for them! This story is meant to be a fun "what-if" melding of two excellent fandoms. 
> 
> And yes, my almost-apocalyptic vision ofk New York City has everything to do with the events of November 8, 2016. Had to get my Canadian angst and frustration out somehow.


	2. Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the fluffy fluff plotty plot chapter. A necessary evil before the good stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course this is set in an actual restaurant in TriBeCa. Because that's how I roll.

After finishing up at the morgue, Strange took Molly to a small restaurant in TriBeCa, one of the areas of New York that was protected by the National Guard and could be deemed "safe". As safe as anywhere in New York could be. The other havens were Greenwich Village (where Strange kept an apartment), the West Village and Chelsea (where Molly lived in a tenement block with other British professionals). The rest of the city was virtually a no-go zone - even the once mighty Wall Street corridor lay empty and lawless after the banks had moved to the West Coast.

Every morning Molly was accompanied to work by armed guards, and had Strange not chaperoned her away with a private driver she would have been shepherded home the same way. The chance to get away from her flat was welcome.

On the short ride from Midtown, Molly struggled not to mention the whole _bullet incident_. She thought it best to let Stephen bring it up when or if he was ready, and if this Moriarty fellow truly was a murderer, she supposed he got what he deserved.

Aside from one wall covered in rough-hewn wood, the rest of the walls in the restaurant were original brick, and the dining room was partially lit by wax candles in hanging glass lanterns. The clientele were nearly all couples and there were only two tables for four in a less-desirable part of the room. It was definitely a date place, but not a first date - more like a third or fourth. If Molly let herself dwell on such things, she would be quite sure that Stephen was trying to impress her.

He sat across from her over the expensive bottle of wine he'd ordered for them, looking like a clothing model in a neatly pressed white shirt and navy jacket while she thanked the heavens she had an important board meeting this morning with the British Consulate - otherwise she'd likely be dressed in jeans and a cotton tee.

She tried not to wonder about where he'd got a change of clothes while he waited for her outside the hospital locker room, or about how uncomfortable she felt wearing a business casual skirt and jumper to such an elegant venue. Not to mention how no one at the hospital saw him arrive or waiting for her - wouldn't they have recognised him?

"To new friends," Strange said, distracting her from her suspicions and raising his wine glass. She lifted hers to join him in his toast and smiled meekly.

"Great space, isn't it?" she looked around the tiny bistro, feeling very out of her element.

"Yes. Very. It used to be a butter factory in the 1800s. One of my favourites," he leaned over toward her with a whisper, "wait until you try the food. The foie gras is incredible, and the dry-aged steak is to die for."

Molly stared down at the menu. Predictably, there were no prices.

"Stephen, forgive me, but I don't know how you can be so decadent at a time like this. When there are people in this city suffering..."

"If I may say this politely, Molly - you don't know who I am or of what you speak. Just allow yourself this small pleasure tonight and you may just find out."

He reached out across the table and placed his hand over hers.

"Please. I know you just met me but I need you trust me. I mean you no harm. And I'm enjoying your company."

Molly couldn't help but smile, a bit embarrassed at her tiny tirade. She deserved a bit of happiness, didn't she? Although some of the things he'd said and did tonight were a bit odd, she had to admit he was a very charming and successful man. There was no harm in getting to know him a bit better, was there?

It turned out that Stephen Strange was an incredible conversationalist. Unlike Molly, he'd travelled the world, especially the Far East and as they enjoyed their dinner he had many stories to tell.

She was pleasantly surprised by this side of him - she never would have guessed that he was refined yet spiritual, assertive yet grounded, and driven yet appreciative. So much, in fact, that when it was time for them to leave she found herself wishing they had more time to talk.

"I have to say that you look quite fine this evening for someone who didn't know she was coming here," Stephen beamed as held the door for her, leading her outside to the car waiting on Reade Street.

"Oh... oh, thank you. Did I give the impression I was made to feel uncomfortable? I can't say I wasn't feeling a bit like that but I didn't want you to think I was unappreciative..."

"I'm quite good at reading thoughts," Strange smirked as the driver leapt from the vehicle, holding the door for his passengers. "I thought you deserved a bit better than Shake Shack."

"It was lovely, Stephen, really. So nice to get out for a bit. The hospital can be a bit daunting sometimes."

"Want to come over for some tea? I really enjoyed the evening, Molly. I've got some things to show you. I promise I'll be a gentleman."

He gazed at her in the dim light of the street lamps reflecting through the tinted windows of the car.

"I wouldn't expect anything less of you," she laughed lightly. "Turns out I have a day off tomorrow so... sure. I can make it a bit of a late night. "

"Wong, please take us back to 177 for a bit."

"Yes, Doctor. My pleasure," his driver responded, turning left onto Sixth Avenue toward the village.

177A Bleecker Street was sandwiched between a bodega and a tattoo parlour. The area seemed to survive in its own plane of existence somehow, untouched by the chaos around it.

As Molly had expected, Stephen's flat was a grand affair. Unassuming from the outside, the difference in space was palpable - it was as though the place was about ten times the size it should have been after passing through the front door.

"You may feel that the wine has got to you a bit, but it hasn't, really. Molly, before I show you some of these things I need to ask that you forget everything you think you know. About the universe, about time, about the limitations of the mind..."

"Ohh.. kay..."

Molly wondered what she'd really got herself into. Was Stephen trying to induct her into some kind of cul...

"Christine thought I'd joined a cult too - when I came back from Kamar Taj. And I suppose in some ways I did - but it wasn't really my choice in the end. It was something I was meant to do..."

"Stephen, thank you for the lovely night but I..." she started back toward the door. How did he always know exactly what she was thinking?

Strange's driver appeared behind her, hopefully ready to take her back.

"I can understand your reluctance to hear him out, Ms. Hooper, but his story is important. And it is a special blessing to be invited into his Sanctum..." Wong spoke softly for the first time.

She turned back to Stephen, a sheepish grin appearing across his lips.

"It is not my intention to keep you here against your will. I want you to know that you are free to leave at any time. I don't wish to scare you, but please, Molly. Allow me to show you what it all means..."

He held his hand out to her, a sincere look on his face.

"All right. I will listen to what you have to say."

She took his hand and followed him through the foyer into the main hall, the distinct scent of incense rising up to greet them. The walls were covered in leather-bound books, more than one man could hope to read in a lifetime. A large dining room was to her left - judging by the size of the table It looked as though Stephen hosted some lavish dinner parties. To their right was a large living area with high ceilings, elegant artwork lining the walls and antique furniture dotting the room over luxe Persian rugs.

In front of them loomed a large staircase leading up to a landing which overlooked the area in which they stood. The railings were crafted in fine wood and the balustrades of marble - the whole place looked like something that could have been lifted from the corridors of Whitehall - she found it magnificent yet quite out of place in the relatively young country of America.

He led her up the stairs to the next floor, nearing the top she could see that it was full of glass cases holding what she could only assume were priceless artifacts.

"Well," Stephen cleared his throat, dropping Molly's hand at her side, "I suppose it's best to get the big one out of the way. If you're to believe anything I say, this will be the first thing you need to see. Excuse me for a moment - I will be right back. Wong will bring you some tea shortly. Have a look around - but don't touch _anything_. I'm sure you'll have many questions."

Stephen retreated down a nearby hallway, stopping first to tap the glass of a case in the corner of the room containing a luxurious red cloak. "Five minutes," he muttered.

Squinting, Molly recognized it as the one he was wearing when she first met him at the hospital.

_What on earth.... she could have sworn she just saw it move!! It really had to be the wine..._

She moved closer to the case with cautious steps, her eyes not once leaving the red fabric. She shook her head. It was still. Maybe it was a fan in the room or some kind of air current. After staring at the cloak for a good thirty seconds she decided it must have been.

Turning toward the other cases in the room she ran almost straight into Wong, who was carrying a fine silver platter holding a detailed brass teapot with matching cup.

"Some tea for you, Ms. Hooper?"

"Yes, thank you," Molly smiled.

He poured her a cup which she accepted graciously, her hands circling the warm metal and the jasmine-scented tea warming her insides as she sipped it.

"I will leave this here for you if you would like some more - and if it runs dry you only need to ask."

Wong smiled back at her and made for the staircase, setting the platter on an oak table near a striking silver mask mounted on the wall. There was something about Wong that comforted her - he exuded a gentle manner that calmed her instantly.

Molly looked around the room, determining quickly that Stephen liked to collect ancient weaponry - with swords, wands, staffs and axes displayed about the room in various cases. She'd thought back to the times she'd visited the British Museum as a child - it was as though she'd walked off the streets of Manhattan directly into the Sutton Hoo gallery.

"Ah, Molly. Thanks for being patient with me," Stephen stated, his voice booming as he strode toward her. He was dressed again in the same blue tunic he wore in the hospital, this time with a shimmering golden belt tied about his waist. His dress made a bit more sense now that he had detailed his time in Kathmandu.

"I've consciously tried not to influence your mind tonight like I did in earlier in the morgue. It was unfair of me to do so, and I'm sorry. However, if it keeps you from panic or danger, I can't say I won't do it again."

Molly was silent. His words were serious now, and although she didn't quite understand their meaning, she at least felt them to be sincere. Until his next sentence.

"I am a Master Of The Mystic Arts, Molly. A Sorcerer, if you will."

Molly glared at him, mouth agape. "I know, I know... it... it sounds like bullshit - I thought it was too at first... but..." he stammered, staring at her, "it's not."

Molly began to laugh. "Stephen - you'd better explain yourself a bit more than that. I promised you I'd keep an open mind but..."

"Finished your tea?" he asked, causing her to look down at her previously empty cup which was suddenly full again, and piping hot.

"I.... Stephen... did you do this?! How..."

"I promise there's nothing funny in it. But yes. I did. Just one of the many things I can do."

She watched in awe as he stepped over to the case containing the red cloak. He snapped his fingers and the case opened, the cloak fluttering out to drift in the space between them.

"Um... how..."

"I know it seems incredible, but it's true. Welcome to the Sanctum Sanctorum, Molly Hooper."

The cloak shifted quickly behind Stephen, wrapping itself around him in a practiced motion and clipping itself to his shoulders. She watched in disbelief as his feet left the ground, the cloak billowing up behind him as he levitated in front of her.

"See?" he gestured, drifting over to the area above the staircase.

"So... you're like some kind of... superhero? Like Superman?!" her voice wavered.

"Sort of like, yeah. But I'm not from a comic book. I'm real..."

Molly watched as he floated back toward her, his boots landing next to her feet with a thud.

"Want to try?" he asked, but before she had the chance to answer, the cloak had left his shoulders and leapt on to hers.

"Molly, meet the Cloak Of Levitation."

"Ohhh my... this is... wow... Stephen!" she exclaimed as the cloak lifted her up in the same way as it had him, floating her up and over the bannister and the staircase.

"Is this quite safe?!" Molly cried as the cloak dangled her above the great height of the staircase.

"Oh yes. She won't hurt you. She must have known that I'm quite fond of you, or she never would have went to you like that."

Molly gasped as the cloak swept up beneath her legs, bringing her to a more comfortable and secure seated position above the stairs.

"This is... well Stephen, although this wasn't really how I pictured the night going... this is... incredible."

"I hope it's starting to become a bit more real for you," he said before the belt around his waist snaked out toward her - it too displaying sentience as it wrapped gently around her wrist and tugged her and the cloak back over the balcony to land at Strange's feet.

"It's... its amazing. I really don't know what to say..."

"To explain things simply - traditional superheroes exist to protect the world from physical threats, but as the Sorcerer Supreme, I'm here to protect it from more... supernatural and mystical ones."

"The Sorcerer Supreme? That's a bit of a grand title..."

"Yes, I agree. That's why I still prefer to be called Doctor Strange. Or just _plain old_ Stephen," he rolled his eyes jokingly. "I know this comes as a shock - all of it - but it's nice to remember that I'm still a normal person."

Molly looked at him, beginning to laugh. "Well you're not really, are you? Normal..."

"No. I suppose I'm not. But it is nice to pretend."

He looked at Molly as the cloak left her body and once again returned to its master's shoulders.

"Are you ready to see something else? Something a bit more... magical?"

Molly's brown eyes studied his carefully.

"Ready as I'll ever be, I suppose."

Stephen sensed a hint of fear in her voice and he stepped toward her, placing his hand on her shoulder. Just like he'd made her feel at the hospital, an overwhelming sense of calm fell over her.

"It's all right, Molly. I won't do anything to hurt you."

And she trusted him, suddenly, as he gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

He removed his left hand from her body and held it in front of him, almost like he was measuring something. Then, he began to make a slow circle with his right, glancing over at her and giving her a shy smile.

"Watch..."

Molly's gaze transfixed on the faint orange circle of sparks beginning to trail behind his fingers, becoming brighter and larger before her eyes as he increased the circumference of the circle before them.

"This is called an Eldritch Portal, Molly. Where would you like me to take you?"

Her mouth fell open as the centre of the circle grew black, and she could feel it starting to draw her into it.

"I... um... London? I know that's..."

"No problem," Stephen whispered, a street scene starting to take form inside the circle.

"Hyde Park? Fleet Street? You can be very specific if you like..."

"St. Barts? My hospital...."

"Very well," he answered, and before she knew it the two of them were standing on Giltspur Street in the shadow of the Number 54 bus, looking up at the carved words in the hospital facade.

"How! This is amazing!"

He began fashioning another circle, the brilliant orange sparks swirling around them once again.

"We can see it in the now... or back five hundred years..."

The stench of the nearby Smithfield cattle market overwhelmed them before they saw it. Strange quickly brought them back to present-day Bart's, but not before Molly caught a quick glimpse of a medieval setting in the area that was now where the ambulance hut stood.

"Maybe not. Smells a bit better now," he laughed.

Molly felt the rain begin to fall as she stood in awe on the pavement in front of St. Barts. "I can't - I'm finding it hard to put this into words, but I am sorry I doubted you, Stephen. You have an incredible gift..."

"It comes as a burden sometimes as well, believe me. Come, let's go back to where it's dry..."

The sounds of the London streets faded as they returned to the quiet sanctuary of Strange's home in New York.

"That's all I'll show you tonight. I'm sure it's been quite enough..."

"It's been... thank you for showing me your world, Stephen..." Molly whispered, still awestruck.

Gently, he brought a hand to her cheek and smiled warmly.

"I had a fantastic time tonight, Molly Hooper. And although you've determined that I'm not exactly... normal... I'm hoping that this isn't too much for you. Can I see you again?"

"Yes," Molly answered, failing miserably at appearing too eager. "I'd like that."

"Good. How's next Friday? I'll make dinner this time..."

"Oh! And he can cook too? You'll really have to convince me now that there was nothing in that tea..." she laughed, distinctly aware that his hand was still on her cheek.

"Well - more than likely Wong will end up cooking, but the thought _is_ there..."

"I'd love to. Friday is perfect. Thank you, Stephen."

He took another step toward her, their chests almost touching.

"I look forward to it."

Then, just as she had hoped, his lips found hers in a brief but delicious kiss. Now she knew what it was like to feel sparks when she kissed someone - in fact she could almost see them.

"Wong will drive you home safely, Molly. Thank you for tonight."

She smiled up at him, her knees feeling a bit weak when she imagined the feel of his lips on hers. Her night had turned out to be quite magical indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the comics, Doctor Strange also has a cool yellow sash that can do cool things and think for itself like the cloak. It didn't make an appearance in the 2016 movie, but I felt I needed to use it as it may come in handy in later chapters. *wink*
> 
> Next chapter this story WILL earn its rating. Yay!


End file.
